Spinning Tales Page 3

  “Perfect. The animal should always decide.” He put his finger on another part of the paper. “Who is your favorite book villain?”

  She blinked, taken aback. “Miss Havisham.”

  He laughed and nodded. “Excellent choice. A classic, with depth and meaning.”

  Maggie couldn’t fathom what that said about her, but he looked pleased and she relaxed her grip on the arms of the chair.

  “If you were walking across a bridge in another country and an old woman offered you a cherry, would you accept it?”

  The visual of that question was so clear in Maggie’s mind it almost felt like a memory. “Yes?”

  He frowned slightly. “Are you sure?”

  She knew how to answer regular interview questions, but these weren’t regular, and she didn’t want to put her foot in it. She’d have to trust her instincts. “Yes. As long as she wasn’t wearing a pointy hat and I wasn’t under grim looking trees with crows in them.”

  He nodded. “Wise. Very good.”

  What the hell is this? He didn’t even crack a smile at her joke. In fact, he looked like he’d taken her answer seriously.

  “Do you believe in life after death?”

  She stiffened. Was this it? Was it some kind of religious nuttery? He didn’t seem the type, but people could be good at hiding who they really were. Still, she’d come this far. “In a way. I’m not religious. I don’t believe there’s someone up there pulling the strings. But I also don’t think I know everything there is to know about how life works, so I can’t say there isn’t something beyond life. I’m comfortable saying I don’t know.” Did that sound too wishy-washy? Would her unwillingness to make a definitive statement take her out of the running?

  He clapped his hands like a happy child. “Excellent answer. You’re not a know-it-all, and you’ve got the sense to know it.” He motioned to the area around them. “That’s exactly what this place needs. If you’d like it, the job is yours.”

  The burst of elation was quickly followed by a thump of suspicion. “Can you tell me what the job entails?”

  He laughed. “Of course. You look after the cottage. Make sure it’s clean, that any upkeep is done, and the gardens stay kept. Obviously, given the location, you have to keep an eye on it in the winter to make sure the snow doesn’t settle on the grass.”

  There it is. “We’re in New York. How exactly do I keep snow from settling on the grass? Who owns this place? Will I be reporting to you?”

  He pushed a book on the coffee table toward her. She hadn’t noticed it before, and that unsettled feeling she got when she hadn’t noticed the writing in the email came back to her.

  “Everything about the day-to-day running of the cottage is in there. You’ll also learn about the history of it, including who built it and why. You’ll have to entertain the occasional guest, but that will be rare. If an issue with the cottage arises, we expect you to handle it, and if need be, you can always call me.” When Maggie reached for the strange looking leather-bound book on the table, he tapped on it. “There’s time for the dry reading later. If you take the job, you’ll have plenty of time to read. You’ll be paid a monthly amount that equates to two-thirds of your present income, and all bills will be paid, including rent. At the end of the year you’ll be given an option to renew your contract, should you have become a satisfactory cottage keeper.”

  He held out his hand and she stared at it. She’d expected to do the interview, get details, and then go away to ponder if this was the right move. She didn’t realize she needed to make a decision right away. “Can I think about it?”

  He withdrew his hand and his expression turned sad. “I’m afraid not, Ms. McShay. The cottage is a special place and requires constant attention. I feel that you’re the right person for the job, but if you have any doubts then perhaps I was wrong.”

  Maggie looked around to buy herself a moment to think. It was a gorgeous place, something right out of a fairy tale. And she didn’t have to leave New York to get it, and that was beyond awesome. There were oddities, but in this city that wasn’t anything new. She pictured going back to her drab, shabby little apartment, and the decision was made. She held out her hand. “I’m the woman for the job.”

  He shook her hand enthusiastically. “I knew you would be. We’ll need you to start right away. Of course, if you have to give notice at your accounting job, we understand, but we’d like you to live here while you finish out your contract there. We’ll pay out the advance notice on your apartment so you don’t have to worry about that, and we’ll send movers to help you get packed and moved in here by the end of the week.”

  Maggie got up and stood behind her chair, her stomach churning. “How did you know where I work? Or that I live in an apartment?”

  He seemed confused. “We did a background check, of course. Right after we scheduled your interview. We wouldn’t allow just anyone access to the cottage, you know.”

  That made sense, and yet the fact that they knew that information about her after only a day made her decidedly uncomfortable. “Sure. Okay.” It was all going to happen so fast. Usually she took her time when she made big decisions, weighing out the pros and cons before taking the next step. But there wasn’t much to weigh here. She hated accounting and was ready for a change. This would give her the time to do it, in a place she could never afford on her own, and she wouldn’t have to touch her savings. It would work.

  He ushered her out of the house, and she followed him back to the entrance to the apartment building. With a last look over her shoulder, she hoped it wouldn’t all be a weird dream. Back in the elevator, she asked, “How do you keep people from going up there? I mean, there’s no security downstairs.”

  He handed her an old-fashioned skeleton key. “That, too, will become clear when you come back with your things. When you get back you’ll need this to take the elevator to the roof. Any questions, check the book. Any true emergencies, give me a call.”

  The elevator door opened and they stepped into the foyer, the fluorescent light flickering and casting strange shadows on the unkempt area. She shivered at the difference between the ground floor and the open area on the roof.

  He turned to her and gave her a sudden, unexpected hug. He smelled of old pine and memories.

  “Good luck, Maggie McShay. May the next year be all you want it to be. We’ll be counting on you.” He squeezed her shoulder and turned away, whistling a happy tune as he walked around the corner.

  Maggie stood bemused on the sidewalk. She realized she hadn’t even gotten his name or how to contact him. She looked up to see if she could spot the cottage, but it looked like an ordinary apartment building surrounded by cafes and shops. There was no way someone on the ground would ever know that beautiful gem was sitting up there like the frosting on a cupcake. My cottage. She wanted to jump around and cheer and yell. But she also didn’t want to look utterly insane. Instead, she ran across the park to the subway, excitement frothing in her system like an ocean whipped up by a storm. She had a new life to begin, and she wasn’t going to waste a second getting it underway.

  Chapter Three

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  “Look. I don’t know who you think you are. I don’t even know why you chose me. But I feel responsible for you. So either get in, or I leave you behind.”

  Maggie was in a standoff with Blech, and the cuts from his claws burned on her hands and arms. The moving guys shifted boxes efficiently around her, staying well out of the way of the argument. Maggie had tried putting the cat in the carrier and succeeded only in pissing them both off. He darted around her to the open window and jumped onto the fire escape.

  “Fine. I’ll come back in a few days to see if you’ve changed your mind.” She slammed the carrier doo
r closed and shoved it out of the way against the wall. The week had been a whirlwind of packing and giving notice, and her job had only asked for two weeks so she could pass her clients on to someone else. After five years, there was barely a nod to her time there. She wouldn’t be missed, and she sure as hell wouldn’t miss them.

  It took less than an hour to pack her life into the moving van, and when the last box was gone she stood in the empty apartment and looked around. It had been a stopgap place, and she didn’t feel any particular emotion about leaving it. That wasn’t unusual, though. She rarely bothered to develop feelings about a place she was living, since she knew full well she’d be moving on. She shut the door behind her and loped down the stairs to the moving van. When she got in, Blech was curled up in the middle of the bench seat.

  “You’re a little shit.” She nodded at the driver, and they set off. She wouldn’t have spent the money on movers herself, but it made the whole process far less painful than moving everything on her own. Definite perk of the new job. As they drove off she kept a lookout for Old Canker. She’d wanted to let him know she was moving, but strangely, she hadn’t seen him all week. She’d just have to come back to chat with him and make sure he was okay.

  After they’d navigated the traffic to the East Village, she jumped out in front of the apartment and entered the foyer. Once again, she stopped and stared. A little person sat behind a polished reception desk, her big smile welcoming. The scuffed linoleum had been replaced with what looked like real slate flooring and the lighting was soft.

  “Ms. McShay, welcome.” The woman came around the desk and shook her hand. “I’m Brenda, and I’m your gatekeeper, so to speak. If you have any guests or if there’s something I can help you with, just shout.”

  Maggie smiled, but she was baffled. “This doesn’t look anything like the place I visited a week ago.”

  Brenda laughed and lifted herself back onto the chair behind the desk. “Of course not. We wouldn’t want a cottage keeper who made decisions based on surface appearances, would we?”

  “So it was a test?” Maggie thought of the strange interview questions, and that didn’t seem like an impossibility.

  Brenda gave her a knowing look. “When it comes to the cottage, most everything is a test.” The movers began bringing in boxes. “If you’ll insert your key into the hole there next to the elevator, they can pile the boxes in and you can unload them at the top. Obviously, they can’t go up with you, so you’ll need to do the unloading on your own.”

  Maggie hadn’t considered that, but it made sense. The cottage was a secret kind of place, and they didn’t want knowledge of it getting around. Though why it would matter she didn’t yet fathom. “Sure, no problem.”

  She went to the top, unloaded the first batch of boxes, then sent the elevator down for the next batch while she moved her things into the cottage. Part of her was relieved the cottage was just as sweet and welcoming as she’d left it. After only three trips, all the boxes were unloaded. The cottage came furnished, and she was fine with leaving behind the few pieces she’d bothered to buy for the apartment. She went down to thank the movers and sign the paperwork, and Blech sat at her feet.

  Brenda peered down at him over the desk. “So he decided to join you after all. Not surprising, really. But you never know when it comes to the animals who choose us. They can be fickle.”

  Blech turned away and walked to the elevator, where he sat cleaning his paw.

  “If you need any help unpacking or if you have any questions, I’m here to help. But I leave at 4:46 each day, and I don’t work weekends.” Brenda picked up a book that looked like it had been read many, many times, with a cover of a man with flowing hair holding a Barbie doll type woman in old-fashioned clothing.

  Feeling dismissed and slightly disgruntled, Maggie waved and got in the elevator with Blech. At the top, he headed straight for the front door and once inside, went directly upstairs to the bed, where he curled up and went to sleep. Maggie watched him, equally irked that he made himself right at home and amazed that he didn’t seem at all interested in his surroundings. “Thanks for your help, butthead.”

  She spent the rest of the day unpacking, and her belongings took up hardly any space, something she noted with pride. If and when the time came to move on, it wouldn’t be a hassle. When she was done she found herself at a loss. She spent time opening and closing every door and drawer she came across, looking at the books on the shelves, and wandering through the back and front yards, both of which had fruit trees of various kinds. The backyard made her shiver. She didn’t know if it was the way the shadow from a building nearby fell on it, or if it was something else, but it almost felt as though there were things lurking in the shadows, under the plants or behind the trees, just waiting…for what, she didn’t know. She shook the feeling off and went back inside to the warmth and safety of her new home. The cottage had everything she could possibly need and plenty of things she’d never touch, mostly in the kitchen. When she was done exploring, she grabbed her keys and headed back downstairs.

  Brenda wasn’t there and Maggie checked the time: 4:48. Wow, she wasn’t kidding. She left and locked the entry door behind her with the same key she used for the elevator and the front door of the cottage. The mailboxes she’d noticed when she’d first come were still there, and she wandered over to have a look at the names. But there weren’t any. They were all blank. More questions. I need to read that book when I get home. She filled up on groceries at the market and indulged in extra snacks. With the money she’d be saving on bills and rent, she could afford to splurge a little. She bought a few microwave meals too. She’d have to find out who delivered in the area, although the Boilermaker next door smelled divine. She could always find room for a good burger.

  Once she was back home and the groceries were unpacked, she lit the fireplace and snuggled down in the overstuffed chair. She picked up the book that was supposed to have all the answers and sipped her premade mojito. It had seemed like an alcohol kind of night, a celebration of new beginnings. She opened the book, and a piece of paper fell out.

  Dear Ms. McShay,

  Congratulations on your new path. Please note that the book must never leave the premises, and if you’re going to have company, please use the apartment on the floor below yours marked MM rather than using the cottage. Your key will fit the lock to that apartment. Once you read about the cottage, this stipulation will make sense.

  Please take the warnings in the book seriously. This is your duty as the cottage keeper, and life as we know it may depend on your diligence.

  All the best,

  Shamus

  Warnings? Apartment? She jumped up, grabbed her keys from the hook by the door, and took the stairs down to the floor below. Sure enough, there was an apartment marked MM and her key fit easily.

  It’s like I’ve gone to some New York version of Wonderland. The apartment was the opposite of the cottage. Black, white, and chrome everything made it an ultra-modern showroom. Black glasses with a bottle of wine sat on a bar beside a black leather sofa. Floor to ceiling windows looked out over the East River, and a king-size bed with a black and white tiled headboard was the focus in the huge bedroom. It wasn’t anything like Maggie’s taste, but what did it matter? They didn’t want strangers in the cottage, but they’d given her the means to have people over anyway. It was a hell of a deal. If she had any friends, they’d have been impressed. Casey certainly would be, if and when they finally managed to talk again.

  She locked it up behind her and went back to her seat at the fireplace. Blech lay stretched out in front of the fire, all four paws in the air. She was glad he was there as a kind of reality anchor. Otherwise everything might have felt just surreal enough to make her think she was in a coma or drugged in some alley. She reopened the book, and the opening paragraph wasn’t exactly a welcoming beacon.

  The back door must always be shut and locked. Do not leave the back door open. If you do so, you are responsible for
what comes through, and it is your responsibility to return what and whoever comes through to its rightful place.

  She thought back to her tour around the place when she’d first seen it. The back door had been open. She’d locked it behind her, but… What the hell would come through the back door when I’m on a rooftop? Can a skunk scale an apartment building? Maybe it means pigeons? She hadn’t heard any animal sounds coming from anywhere, but then, she hadn’t spent the night yet. Maybe it was something nocturnal.

  That definitely didn’t feel like what the book meant. Maybe she’d learn more. She picked up her drink again and kept reading.

  Now that you know about the back door, let’s begin. The cottage you’re in has been here since before New York came to be. The city grew up around it, and the cottage simply became incorporated in the way it was needed to.

  Maggie set the book down with a sigh. Much like the questions she’d been asked at her interview, the book made no sense either. You didn’t build an apartment building under a cottage. Physics prevented that kind of thing. She’d hoped for answers but so far hadn’t gotten anything more than a cool new apartment. A yawn overtook her, and she glanced at the clock. It had been a full day, and she was exhausted. Maybe she’d have more patience for riddles and weird theories in the morning. She headed to bed, and was surprised when Blech followed her up the stairs and curled up at the foot of the bed. Maybe he wasn’t feeling so certain of himself after all.

  She sank into the huge bed, pulled the thick comforter over herself, and was asleep within moments.

  * * *

  Moonlight broken by dark branches passed over her in bouncing slices, making her dizzy. Someone carried her, their raspy breaths showing in the freezing night air. Fear raced along with them, though there were no sounds of them being followed.

  Hurry. We’re almost out of time.

  The sound of that voice…the music of it, the despair and love combined to provide a cloak over her. She knew that voice.